A few years ago, at the start of this open nesting journey, one of my kids was really struggling. And so was I. As goes the kid, so goes the mom/parent/me.

My anxiety was off the charts. I couldn’t sleep. I was researching obsessively as if googling were a tangible task—like building a house or performing CPR. I needed to get my own feet under me, not just worry about my kid’s footing.

I reached out to other parents, friends, and therapists. And I went to see the amazing Betty Higgins.

Betty is a Master Neuro-Linguistic Programming Practitioner, Clinical Hypnotherapist, Certified Sports Enhancement Coach, and Certified Life Coach—and pretty much everyone in my life has seen her at some point. Addiction, phobias, codependency, trauma, grief—she covers it all. But mostly, I go to her for the simple gift of hope. Hope that something will help. Hope that there’s always an option to try.

After letting me rant, vent, and spiral, she sweetly says something positive, yet profound like: "It’s great you’ve developed all these skills, but they aren’t serving you anymore. Let’s move on."

Her kids are a little older than mine, so she offered a lot of empathy to my empty feelings, too. Then she gave me what has become one of the secret weapons in my parenting toolkit:

"Imagine two years from now. Everything has worked out, and your kid is thriving. All of this—the worry, the struggle—has passed, been learned from, and fueled growth. Picture your kid happy, healthy, and two years older. ONLY talk to that kid. Even now, when you’re sitting with a stuck, scared kid who’s taking it out on you—that’s the current kid. ONLY talk to the kid two years ahead."

I don’t use this all the time—most days, I’m fully enmeshed in whatever today’s crisis-of-the-day is. I get swept up in the panic that whatever’s happening will last forever, that it’s a permanent state. I spiral into the false feeling that they should know what they want, be actively engaged every day in chasing it, and clobbering goals. It is a sinkhole. Because let’s be real—has anyone between 18 and 25 ever not questioned their life, purpose, and path?

But the times I remember? When I pull this out like a lifeline and speak to that future version of my kid—wow. It works. It gives us all the space to change. It gives us hope. It helps me see the impermanence in whatever feels so overwhelming.

I’ve been using it a lot lately. The best part is, it doesn’t require pretending. I genuinely believe that joy and greatness are already there in my sons. Sometimes, my panic is just fear that it’s still locked up, untapped. This trick helps me let it flow.

This week has been a bit rough for me—more on that later— but it is something akin to the question above edited to read: Because let’s be real—has anyone between 18 and FORTY-EIGHT ever not questioned their life, purpose, and path? So, I started using the same trick in my self-talk. I imagine that in two years, all this stuckness will be gone, and it’s all working out. I picture the me I want to be, and I talk only to her.

Two years from now, today, two years ago. Them. Me. You.

I like that kid.

If you found this valuable, consider Restacking so more people can see it.